


Mad Dancing

by meiqis



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 16:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14814588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiqis/pseuds/meiqis
Summary: Where Xukun is a DJ who has his eyes on the most popular stripper Zhengting





	Mad Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> As based on this prompt

Red neon letters above a basic entrance, red perfect bricks and it might just look all that simple and basic, nothing shady, nothing grand, only two massive bouncers giving away this was no simple, no worthless, no despicable business, no, the contrary, exclusive to the rich, the influential, the high-ups, the newcomers, all the people who are in charge and will be, picking pearls from peas, and it hit, hit hard when walking in, passing doors and heavy curtains. Cause it was all burgundy velvet and ebony wood shining in the dim light, was all liquid and solid gold glistening in glasses and on skin, dangling and swirling, it was all leather and silk, expensive seats with the smell of luxury and luxurious fabrics spread above, dresses and suits, luxury on luxury on people whose greedy eyes observed the stages. All chilly air to disperse the smell and fog and smoke of cigars that were too expensive to be smoked anywhere else, all heavy scent carrying through the huge area, blowing away bills and swirling through the air when a customer got daring because this wasn't cheap, this wasn't tugging back waistbands and slipping papers, was checking names on lists and putting bills in letters, was asking dancers to visit tables and accept those notes with elegant gestures, was being able to buy private dances with ease and gifting even more money there, more cash blown in a night than citizens would like to know and membership was only all that high to secure secrets and hidden things, never spilling stories, never spilling truths, always spilling drinks, always spilling bills.  
And it was no surprise that even the employees in this club were shining diamonds, beautiful women deserving to stand on catwalks, star on magazine covers, be seen on the big screen, tending all the preferences, with big eyes and plush lips and curves in all the right places, they were enough to make any man and woman salivate in interest, a pre-taste to what would come later on. It started slowly, it always started slowly, with both beautiful young men and women walking onto the stage, always a perfect mix, always tending all the preferences, all the tastes, and all the regulars knowing where to sit just to see where they'd be closest to their nightly favorites. With perfect bodies moving with the beat, never swerving, never losing track, even when he sometimes made it his job to provoke exactly that, suddenly changing the beat, speeding up, slowing down, always forced to stay within limits because this was no party, and he would hate it if it weren't for one peculiar reason. Would hate not seeing the energy amongst people, would hate how they all sat around so calmly without dancing and shaking and grinding, would hate the expensive drinks he himself wasn't allowed to drink, would hate the smoke itching in his nose and triggering his allergies, and he would hate Sundays most, those sinful Sundays that triggered him most, even more drinks, even more smoke, even more bills, and he would hate it all, was supposed to hate it all, only sell his music to save them the struggle of a live DJ, would do all that, if it weren't for that moment exactly at eleven in the night, all lights suddenly going out, all darkness, no sparkling gems and glistening drinks, no murmurs, no orders, abrupt silence as even mother earth seemed to hold her breath, silent steps audible, all ears to locate them, find out where he was standing while doing that countdown in his head, light and music turning on at once, and there he was, that one peculiar reason. 

It had been funny since the first night, Xukun wasn't elegant, wasn't rich, wasn't expensive - or maybe he was, so young and yet so favored, his name on events meant sold out tickets, his schedule fully booked, living the life, party nearly every night, drinks for free, all too much of the payment because he didn't need to share, all the girls and guys he wanted, flocking to him, wanting a night with the most favored DJ in town and it never grew old.  
So it had come as surprise, pleasing and startling and oh too sweet, a simple letter, a business card, a guest ticket, time and date, it had still been afternoon. One night ahead and he had been free, using the ticket, entering a club that was all tell and tale and never much truth, all rumors and talks and never witnessed. Because it wasn't just for anyone, this elegant establishment, wasn't for someone like him who took over parties and created moods, was standing in shadows and blasting money on drinks he shouldn't afford and it was that night he got to see his peculiar reason for the first time.  
All lights going off, all white lines directed at one frame, a face hidden by a veil, cled in white silk and silver chains, trousers too tight, blouse too loose, all elegant moves and swirls, a sad interlude to a tragic dance with wings made of fabric and angelic beats, with rhythm building up as if to cast spells of erotic and arouse, fabric fluttering further, becoming more loose, chains clinking and clanking and all too delicate for too much noise. There was white falling off and flowing away, there was porcelain skin decorated by glittering silver, with little metallic string wrapped around a fragile frame and he'd love to believe it was only that, all lithe and slim and slender if not it was for those moves, for muscles flexing and stretching, for spine arching and legs spreading, arms flailing like wings and black being undone, lost on the stage and lost in the dark, swiped away inbetween fast steps and rapid movements, coming to a sudden halt as if to signal a change in position, a sudden stop, edging on orgasm and euphoria, a call of triumph when a body glistening in sweat started turning again, always mending all corners, looking at all the customers, silky burgundy underwear sticking to skin with sweat and exercise, turning on people, calling for attention, scent of sweat in a room that was deprived of all movement, shiny white still hiding a beautiful visage as the male tumbled through seats, swinging his legs around seats, hands brushing along arms, fingers stroking hair, disappearing in shadows and emerging again as if he were a being of another world and the last stop was him, hiding in the shadows, half-hidden by a curtain and way too close, heavy breath and bodily heat, all too close to Xukun to not think of anyone else and a hushed, “Take it off.”  
And Xukun did, shaky hands moving up, grasping sheer and shifting fabric hanging down from a string across his nose, eyes just stars in the night sky with bangs hiding his face, sticky with sweat, all soft dangling sounds from a heaving chest and shaky shoulders making silvery strings shake and move, little chains dancing as if their owner was still doing so. A little string, satin and shine, undone behind the blonde of angelic curls, and then it dropped along with his heart. Face of an angel, a demon, the fallen kind, all rosy lips parted and releasing heated air, too close, too far, he wasn't able to tell anymore while just staring at this beautiful man, raising a hand, reaching behind Xukun - and he was gone with the wind, disappearing behind a door he had never seen and would never find again.  
A peculiar reason he had named an angel of the fallen kind, the very reason he didn't hate this place, the reason he kept coming back, every Sunday, every week, waiting for lights to go off and a beautiful figure to show up, always different outfits and different styles, fluttering white and tight black, silky blue and soft cream, harsh gold on cold red and he was always the same, captivating people and calling for sex, a stripper that wasn't a stripper, a stripper that was an angel and demon alike, controlling people and making them swerve, no matter be it male or female, young or old, it was the same and the same again, a constant attraction in a world breathing diamonds and rich, and he was supposed to be only there.  
Right the next afternoon, business card in hand, letter in his pocket, he was out on the streets, standing in front of massive doors, dark red brick wall, all too simple, all too plain, striking contrast to the insides, and let in. All too different to its nightly atmosphere, burgundy looking wine, leather looking dull, tables looking wood, no arouse, no smoke, no drinks, all as plain as the outside suggested with a woman greeting him, firm handshake and confident words, a stable job, great pay, Sunday was his day and while she was still talking and chatting, trying to do business when all he wanted was his schedule and his contract, he suddenly asked, “There was a dancer yesterday…  
With these… chains… and a veil…”  
The woman was all knowing gazes, all amused spark, probably thinking how he had made use of that guest ticket after all, how he must have enjoyed the show, how she hadn't even needed to talk him into things, all readily agreeing and all taking the job, all no other schedules, and all too willing. “Austin? He recommended you for this job.” 

And it truly must have been a peculiar reason for his own peculiar reason to not be standing on a huge stage now, not surrounded by platinum and diamonds, no expensive drinks but dozens of shots sold by the minute, not caring about quality and luxury, not caring about leather and silk, kids to people that were visiting this exquisite club that was his every Sunday's schedule, youngsters that themselves visited that place so often and often, faces he knew and didn't know at the same time, hands that paid well as they always did in these settings, where quantity was more important than quality, where partying was the only important things, where black cards were swiped by the minute, where temperatures rose with bodies stuffed on the dancefloor, where Xukun had the most fun.  
Because the rich loved to party and parties loved him, standing behind his desk, shifting, turning, twisting buttons, sure he could go modern, just use his laptop mainly to do this work but it was boring, held no excitement, cap pulled low as he moved his body to the beat he set, at times sticking with a certain set to take a sip from his drinks instead, water, gin tonic, it was all he'd crave, drinking, dancing, mixing, always looking at those people around, beneath, dancing to their heart's content, enjoying and drinking, getting louder by the moment, more drunk, more hyped, more fun, and like a wave trapped in a pool it came back and back again, an eternal swirl that just got the mood more set and the music right along.  
Until suddenly he was tapped on the shoulder, a staff, telling him to take it slow again, person on a table, impromptu stage of bar tables aligned, Xukun had never noticed,slender figure, arms up high, hips swaying all that deliciously and despite his state drunk on the atmosphere and booze he perfectly arranged the music, low beats, shaking up the club, thrumming through the floor, echoing through bodies, gentle melody, piano and piano tunes, low and gentle, that body whose back only he could see, loose shirt and tight jeans, softly swaying with slow moves that perfectly matched his music, unique synchronization as he turned it up and kept it low, melody more suggestive, bass line heavy, a highlight here and there, moves that swayed more sensually, body rolls, secure steps atop unstable tables, backwards, all backwards, with all eyes directed at him, shirt coming loose, low, revealing slender shoulders, slim and toned, oddly familiar but he couldn't grasp it, all too hypnotized, all too focused, hands moving around, tiniest notes easily grasped and softest sway seen. Mood more sensual, suggestive, feet spinning, turning towards the mass and if only Xukun had been holding his drink this moment, he definitely would've dropped it, shards clinking and liquid spilling, but all he held were buttons on his desk, bass beat suddenly stopping and a body that kept moving, burning eyes directed at his and there were flashes of silvery chains dangling and rustling in the dark, a nearly bare body, heaving chest, a soft voice telling him, “Take it off.”  
Eyes that remained as stars in the nightsky fixed on his, urging him on, his autopilot turned on as he handled the music again, gaze never breaking as if that dancer had found his prey for the night, all the lewdness exploding all of a sudden, not the same person from the club, as if his elegance had left with his veil missing, all body rolls and pulling up his shirt, all flashing his abs or bare shoulder, all tense thighs inside distressed jeans with a huge Gucci logo decorating the area above his crotch that seemed to be awfully tight now, all seen by Xukun and more.  
Music more lewd, heavier, and if tunes could portray sex and arouse it would be this melody, low, thrumming, shaking up bodies and caressing ears, dance moves more sensual, button after button undone until fabric wasn't used to cover up a now bare upper body but merely a scarf hanging around arms, used as dancing tool, swirling around his frame, strained between hands, used to accessorize body rolls, give an impression of what he could do with those, front of his jeans grinding innocent white, black on silk, such striking contrast, and the DJ was all lost for him, all lost watching limbs moving, fingers twisting, arms raised, hips rolling, all too lewd, all too sensual, all too much of those starry eyes undressing him behind his desk.  
All too close too fast, getting off tables with a beautiful flip that didn't mess his hair, didn't make him lose his shirt but put it back on, all white silk hanging down his shoulder as he made his way across the dance floor, caressing arms, grabbing waists, breathing against necks, pressing himself close to bodies, all too easily making everyone he touched his servant and slave, all them too whipped for a man who knew how to control people too easily and with a confidence that should be illegal he took those few steps up to his small stage, standing above others, staff too captivated to reprimand him, all too close, all too hot, all too sweaty, skin and abs glistening, shoulders shaking and trembling, chest heaving and falling, shiny white teeth digging into rosy lips and a hushed, “I knew you'd be here…” 

It wasn't the only thing that dancer had known as Xukun realized later, hardly more than an hour for him to switch to a basic setting until another DJ would take over or they'd just keep it, he didn't know and didn't care, all that would usually intrigue him, excite him, the knowledge of how he'd get twenty percent of the drinks profit, how he'd get his share of the entrance fee, interest in the next jockey that would take on after him who had lured in guests while he was busy partying and drinking and flirting, they were all irrelevant now as all he wanted was to see Austin, feel that body against his after these times only inches had seperated them and he had felt a body radiating heat right in front of him, dancer hardly dressed, his own clothes still on and yet feeling it all, that heated gaze, undressing him during their odd collaboration, a gaze of trapping prey when standing right in front of him and he didn't know how it had happened but just seconds after standing outside the club like a lost pup he was already backed up against a wall, rosy lips against his and that shirt so perfectly loose, white silk pushed up with his greedy hands grabbing a slender waist, nails digging into the small of a back that wasn't his, body flush against his frame, jeans tight in all the wrong places, feeling arouse against his own crotch and he wondered just how long this stripper had already been hard, craving attention, calling for him with eyes and gestures, what he had imagined while dancing with those eyes fixed on his own illuminated face behind that DJ table and yet at the same time there was nothing occupying his mind but this messy and sloppy and wet kiss. All tongue and taste of drinks, the refreshing and bitter kind of his and sickening sweet on Austin's, giving Xukun too much of an idea of what he liked, cream and fruity, innocence in taste that didn't fit those sexy moves at all, contrasting demanding hands tugging at his hair and gripping his neck, opposing elegant splits and reaches on stage, all the strength held within such tender body lines that were telling tales of control and force in all their own ways and right now Xukun only wanted to drown in these very arms.  
All too invitingly, a head tilted back, all too greedily, his tongue licking of remains of sweat, open mouthed kisses against that slender neck, ruthlessly sucking marks, he didn't care, didn't think, this man had a dangerous ability of casting spells and making people weak, claiming them with a gaze, with a touch, with a roll of his hips far away, drove men and women crazy alike, a whole threat to sanity, and Xukun had already fallen victim to this man who was within his arms now. All too dangerous, all too sexy, all too tempting, and he didn't know how it had happened, how they had ended up in a car, two people in the front, one rolling his eyes due the semi-sex and eating faces and tongues down throats in the back while the other was just sunny smiles and telling him not to be jealous and Xukun couldn't care anymore because all he wanted was this boy beneath him, this man who was already halfway up his lap, hipa still rolling so sweetly and lips hatched to his sensitive neck, sucking skin and leaving bites, all too sweet and all too harsh.  
Stumbling out the car and Austin calling something about using protection and pizza, an elevator ride that seemed to pass by in the split of a second, opened apartment door and he shouldn't even be surprised it was this luxurious when the stripped made more money in a night than he might in the whole of a month, all too expensive, all to exclusive, and all too much free space and glass walls that opened up to the wide of the city and then there was music and arms hugging him from behind, tugging at his tee and throwing off his cap, standing topless way too soon but turning in those slender arms was for vain when the dancer retreated, leaving him alone for but a second, enough time to have sensual violins and cellos and gentle piano keys and heavy bass thrums filling up the room, slender digits on his shoulders as he was guided to a couch backwards, knees hitting furniture and giving in, his eyes darting up to this demon that wore a grin too smug, tugging at the sewn tie of his shirt, stepping back while rolling his lips and Xukun didn't even need to ask to know what would come next because the music told him all the tales he needed to know and delicious body rolls added in.  
If there was someone who could make dancing look like sex, making love, jackhammering and orgasms, all that and all at once, it must be this man in front of him, undoing his shirt bit by bit, losing fabric, dancing on top of his skin, sliding down, revealing smooth porcelain, all too much, all too smooth, skin glistening in soft lights and harsh city reflections, jeans lost, stepped out of as if it were water and revealing smooth and toned thighs, the kind Xukun just wanted to part with his fingers and pull on, dig his nails into, grab and yank harshly while throwing him over and it was all too lost when a frame settled on his lap, body still swaying, rolling, shaking, his hands on top, exploring lean muscles and scratching skin, pulling him down and eyes scanning underwear, wondering what it was this time, burgundy, black, gold, he had seen it all, pleased and disappointed at once, simple black cotton, as if he hadn't expected it, hadn't meant to hook up, hadn't been interested in getting laid, yet here they were, aiming for exactly that, and Xukun was greedy enough to go for it.  
Music still playing, fading out with a body on top of his, back arching, skin glistening, all the epitome of pleasure and arouse, all gaspy moans and hushed voice, all wanting to make this man yell his name so he grabbed slender hips, forced him down, a strong frame turning into a weak mess, on top of him, straddling his lap, bent over the couch and the backrest, forced to look at the city right in front, fingers down his mouth to force him to be loud, moans mixing with sweet melodies, bodies meeting, trembling thighs, it wasn't enough, couldn't be enough.  
A bed, too grand for one person alone, just right for exactly this demon, mattress soft, perfectly bouncy, all too good, all too luxurious, with the devil between his legs, mouth all too hot, kisses all too wet, sucks all too loud, with stars exploding behind his eyes and throat sore from his own grunting and groaning, with a beautiful body spread beneath him, squirming, squealing, all teary eyes glistening on shimmery eyeshadow and rosy lips swollen and red, parted for pants and gasps, all too sweet, all too loud, all too much arouse and erotica, all too fitting a stripper infamous in a club infamous.  
It was all forcing legs open, grabbing thighs and leaving red crescents, scratching skin and biting flesh, all sucking marks and leaving traces, claiming this dancer and making him his, all eyes that had undressed him and eaten him up turning glassy and rolling back, it was all too sweet and all too exquisite. 

It was passing out in a mess of tangled limbs and sticky fluids and waking up with a lithe body cuddled against his, with their legs entwined and arms hugging him close, was a little smile and tired eyes with smeared eyeliner and messy makeup, lips still full and red and marks strikingly dark on pale skin, was stars sparkling in dark orbs and a tiny smile tugging up bruised lips in all the exhausted ways a night like the passed could've been. It was all little pecks and caresses with fingertips, all huddling close and prolonging a moment in bed the slightest bit further, ignoring the task of a shower and the idea of cleaning up, delaying looks into mirrors and screeches due marks, pushing back thoughts of sore muscles and pain while walking, was all but a soft voice and gentle words and a hushed, “I knew you'd come with me…”

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually quite rushed and written on mobile entirely so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes  
> Reach me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/zhengjunist) or bless Kiki @onlyanchen for her phenomenal prompt


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